


In The Mind's Eye

by Preelikeswriting



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Lazarus Pit Madness, Memory Loss, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Protective Dick Grayson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29564175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Preelikeswriting/pseuds/Preelikeswriting
Summary: Jason begins to experience disorienting memory loss as the Lazarus Pit's influence fades
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Talia al Ghul & Jason Todd
Comments: 7
Kudos: 187





	In The Mind's Eye

**Author's Note:**

> Needed to write something to get back into the writing mode and conveniently had this story laying around half-written.

Memory was… hard for Jason.

It hadn’t always been that way. When he was a kid, it was the main way he’d learned. Half overheated snippets of nature documentaries as Willis flipped through channels on the TV, textbooks he did his best to memorize when his mom sent him to the library; when she was having her ‘special friends’ over. School, back when he'd still attended, was fine- but the older he got, the more he was forced to skip to take care of things back home.

Memory was important. Jason had to remember which corner, and which time, and which man to get mommy’s medicine from. “Always him Jay, never anyone else Jay” she would say, her fingers knotted in his hair. Tight, desperate, pulling just a little too hard. “Promise me!” she would say, shaking him harder, until he nodded and promised at least five times. She would let go then, relaxing back into the musty-smelling couch, her eyes far away again.

_“So pretty Jay, so handsome. My good little boy. Have to keep you safe. Won't let that happen. Not to you.”_

With Batman, his memory was never good enough.

It was good, B always said he had talent, had potential… had, "room for improvement". It was hard- hard to explain, hard to put into words, hard to make Bruce understand- that every time they walked into a crime scene he saw everything. Saw everything, and did his best to stay still even while his instincts begged him to flee. Years of conditioning, years of memory that screamed danger until it all blurred together into a giant mess of red.

He would be able to remember the first things- the big triggers, the big warning signs- B would nod silently, his face giving away nothing until it slowly became a frown. He would tell Jason everything that he’d missed. “You need to be better Robin. It’s our duty to remember these things, to make connections that others cannot. You can’t do that if you become tangled in the obvious.”

Jason would nod, biting back some sort of response, some defense of himself. He’d still been trying back then. Trying to be the kid Bruce wanted.

He tells people he doesn’t remember coming back. It’s a lie. 

He tells people he doesn’t remember after, stumbling around Gotham for months alone. It’s almost not a lie.

He gets flashes, dreams about it sometimes. Huddling in alcoves, abandoned buildings, fire escapes that it would be suicidal for anyone else to try climbing. He never stayed in the same place for long. He’d been looking for something, someone. He pretends he doesn’t remember who.

After Talia puts him in the pit things are different.

He’s not sure if he hates her for it, that changes almost daily. The state he was in, before- it scares him. He knows it’s not the same, but ever since his mom became too far gone to remember to send him out before she shot up, the idea of not being in control of his own body had terrified him. But this, this madness? It was almost worse. Because he _thought_ it was him. In the moment, he was _so sure_ it was him making the decisions. But then, hours, days later when the pit madness retreated, Jason would be left sick and trembling as he remembered reveling in the things he’d done.

The madness retreating didn’t necessarily make him believe in what he was doing any less, it just- recontextualized his motivations. It still made him feel sick when he thought of what he’d done to Tim, but on the flip, it was dwelling on things like that, that drew the green out. It whispered to him, curling around him like a noose, justifying his actions to him until he became convinced they were his own ideas and he was satisfied.

The green also changed the way he perceived things, changed the way his mind processed life. His eyes focused on microexpressions, always pulling the worse possible meanings from people's words, twisting them to justify his rage. But it wasn’t just the present that was affected, but the past too. Bad memories rose to the surface; a never-ending slideshow of fights and hurts, abandonment and anger. But, good memories stayed buried. He had a hard time pulling anything positive forward, and when he managed it, the memories were warped and wrong, untrustworthy.

He doesn’t think he hates Talia, he just hates that he was brought back at all.

It had faded somewhat now, as the pit madness had receded. He still had his moments of uncontrollable rage when he had to fight himself not grab his gun and track Bruce down, but most days, whatever safe house he’s in takes the brunt of that, not a Bat. He always abandons the place after that, doesn’t want to be reminded of his continued failings any more than he already is.

The rage fades but the memory issues don’t. They change some, there's less gaslighting by his own head going on now, but the things he forgets to do... are arguable more important.

He has to leave himself lists, little bulleted sticky note,s reminding him what patrol routes each of the Bats are due on, which warehouses, which docks, which kids he’s supposed to check on. It had nearly scared him to death the first time he’d returned to one of his safe houses only to realize that he’d forgotten to restock food on his normal day. At first, he’d thought the safe house had been compromised, that some Bat or Bird had found it and helped themselves to dinner but after the moving from safe house, to safe house, he realized what had happened.

The first time he went on patrol without his backup guns- he’d set them aside to clean the previous night- he’d nearly died. He’d run out of ammo, and he was only alive because Nightwing just happened to be in town. He’d run off before Dick could get any bright ideas about following him. 

As soon as he’d got home he’d called Talia.

They hadn’t been in true contact in months, but he received a text every few weeks with her new number, and most weeks he responded with his own. She’d picked up almost immediately.

_“Hello Habibi, what can I do for you?”_

“I-” his voice caught

 _“Jason? Beloved, Are you alright? Has something happened?"_ There was a pause, _"Was it your father?”_

He almost laughed, because for once it seemed, Bruce has absolutely nothing to do with this. “I- I’m having side effects. I think. From the Pit.”

She was silent for a moment, considering, it made Jason relax a little that she was listening, even if he knew there was no reason for her not to. “ _What kind of side effects?”_

“I’m forgetting things, things I shouldn’t. I forgot food Tals- I forgot my guns!” he couldn't help the way his voice rose and his breathing picked up. He was scared, really truly scared. His voice caught, and he had to take a moment to shove his panic down. “What’s happening to me?”

He could hear her draw a breath on the other end of the line, and he knew it was for his benefit, inviting him to match it. _“Take a deep breath Jason, you will be fine. This is not… unheard of. It’s not pleasant by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s not unheard of. As the madness of the pit fades, it tears away at its host, trying to keep hold by any means necessary. Like a parasite. But the mind is strong, and Lazarus’s gift for reparations never truly fades. It will take some time, but the memory loss will cease eventually.”_

He nodded, forgetting that she couldn’t see him. “Okay- okay,” his voice was shaky, and for the first time, he became aware of the tight ball he’d curled himself into, tucked back in the corner of his poorly stocked kitchen.

It was quiet through the phone, and Jason would have thought she’d hung up it not for the faintest whisper of breath. _“Darling, do you want me to come?”_

A foolish, childish part of him wanted to scream yes. Because she would come for him, she would stay with him while he fell apart, he trusted her to do that. But he also knew that there would be consequences. B would know, Talia was hardly a small presence to keep quiet. Ra’s would know, and seeing as he didn’t know where the two of them stood at that moment, he didn’t want to invite any more trouble into either of their lives.

“No, I- don’t worry, I’ll manage.”

She hummed, _“Call if you need me,”_ and then the line went dead.

So Jason got up and made lists. Everything he needed to do before and after patrol, what days he needed to buy food, what day he needed to move on. Then he stopped- realizing that if anyone was to follow him back to his safe house they would know everything. He tore down each of his lists and lit them on fire, started over. It was a code only he and Talia knew, and while he wasn’t sure he wanted her to have 24-hour access to his plans, the idea that he could potentially forget his own code terrified him more, he needed the backup.

It was a good system. It worked. It let him relax and the constant reminders made him less prone to forget, and when he did. the lists were there to remind him. Unfortunately, about two months in, Jason encountered a hitch.

It should have been a simple enough job. A few new players feeling out Gotham's shittier neighborhoods, ergo, his territory. Nothing overly exciting or strenuous. But what Jason didn’t know was that the same group had been putting out its feelers in Bludhaven too. 

He and the Bats hadn’t been on the greatest terms lately, so information sharing had been something of a no-go. Back before he’d figured out what was going on with his memory, he’d accidentally loaded his guns with real bullets instead of rubber. He’d caught on before anyone had died, but he’d fucked up a few people good. 

While the shouting match that had followed probably didn’t even rank compared to some of the truly epic ones Bruce and he had participated in, it had been enough for Jason to toss his comm into the back of a closet and leave it there. They hadn’t worked a job together in months.

Jason landed behind the small crew of newbies with a solid thud, both his sidearms hanging loosely from his hands. There were seven of them, only three had guns, the others were armed with various blunt objects of the stereotypical variety.

“The fuck are you supposed to be?” one of the goons said incredulously, gesturing pointedly with the crowbar in hand.

“Easy man…” muttered the guy beside him, his head ducked downward-looking like he wanted to be anywhere else, “This is what I’ve been try’n t’ tell you ‘bout”

“What?” the man said, his face contorting, “You’ve been babbling about motherfucking bats. Does he look like a bat to you, dumbass?”

Jason hummed, watching as the men stiffened as his voice echoed through the modulator in his helmet, interrupting their little melodrama. “I’ll give you that much,” he said, his grin invisible under his helmet, “I ain’t no bat.”

He lunged forward, aiming for the closest thug with a gun. He could hear colorful cursing echoing around his head as the men threw themselves out of his way. The Jason of a couple of months ago would have gladly engaged with them, throwing banter and quips like he was twelve and Robin again. But now he kept his mouth closed, focusing all his attention on tracking each of the men as he weaved through them, taking them down with solid and precise strikes. Flash was more fun, but it took longer. Jason needed to fight like Talia had trained him to, like an assassin. The longer he wasted with these guys, the more chance he'd let some green slip through.

Before he’d jumped in, he’d checked the surrounding area for signs of other gang members and he’d come up empty. His HUD hadn’t signaled him of any other heat signatures in the area, no thugs, no cops, no bats, birds, or any other assorted pseudo-family. As such, he’d felt comfortable enough to give this little brawl his full attention. 

Well, at least he thought he'd checked- was pretty sure he had.

When Jason swung his elbow back it connected with air, the man who’d been standing there only seconds ago was collapsed on the ground; a position he'd certainly not been put in by Jason. 

“Mind if I cut in here Little Wing?” a familiar voice flitted in from his right as another man hit the ground. Jason bit back a growl, green pulsing at the edges of his vision as he lost track of where everyone stood. 

Cursing, he was forced to spin around openly to recount, nearly getting shot for his efforts.

“Step off Dickhead!” Jason hissed as he drove his knee into one of the goons. But he was off-balance, Dick’s sudden presence having thrown him for a loop. Jason turned sharply, practically walking into the next blow. 

The crowbar made contact with the side of the hood, with a crash that left his ears ringing. He could feel the quiet hum building under his skin. The Lazarus Pit doing its best to drag up memories of disorientation, and pain. Overlaying the feeling of the current strike with the ones he’d endured as a teen, laid out in a warehouse. He couldn't get his hands up quick enough to block the second strike, this one hitting him squarely in the throat. Jason blinked from where he hit the ground, forcing himself to draw in breath as he heard Dick give an outraged yell. 

Jason caught the kick the goon sent at his head just before impact and _pulled._ The man hit the ground beside him, his head snapping back against the pavement of the parking lot, stunning him. Flipping over on top of the man, so that he was straddling his attacker, Jason fought the urge to give in and wrap his fingers around his meaty throat. 

The Pit was in his ear, cooing to him, telling him how good it would feel to watch as the light slowly left his eyes, telling Jason how justified he would be. 

Instead, Jason wrapped his hands around the struggling man's head and slammed it into the ground, and then again for good measure, and then again for that hit with the crowbar, and then agia- 

Jason’s movement was interrupted. Dick’s hand wrapped tightly around his forearm. His first instinct was to pull away, to shove his older brother off him and continue, continue to beat the shit out of this _worthless piece_ -

“-on, Jason, you can stop now.” He felt Dick’s fingers give his arm a little shake, “He’s down now Jay, you’re okay.”

Jason could feel the film sliding away from his eyes, all things The Pit was repressing coming into focus, and all the adrenaline it had dumped in him slipping away. Beside him, Dick continued his monologue, his fingers tightening every so often, giving him something more to focus on than the retreating presence of the green.

“ _There we go_ , easy Little Wing. Just let him go, relax. It’s over now. It’s over-“ Dick gave a little hiss of surprise as Jason all but doubled over. “Woah! Woah, Hood, are you okay?” Dick pulled him off of the man and into his lap angling himself so his brother wouldn’t see the thug. “Hood?” Dick settled his fingers on his brother’s pulse point when he received no response.

In the distance, Jason could hear the sound of sirens. He knew by now that it was standard protocol to alert the authorities the moment a Bat witness Red Hood engaged in a fight. He wondered where they were going to send him this time, Arkham or Blackgate. He doubted either place would let him make his lists. 

His breath caught on the intrusive thought, unsure if it came from him or the pit. But he could feel his mind beginning to spiral regardless, his limbs tensing in an automatic fight or flight response. Below him, he could feel Dick tense as well, and he hated the automatic surge of anger the perfectly natural response prompted. 

“Jay? Little Wing, I need you to breathe." Dick said softly, his words insistent, "You need to breathe Jason.”

He wanted to run, he could feel his muscles waking up, his brain sparking back at life with the overwhelming urge to flee. But he could feel the green just out of sight, and he knew that if he gave in to his instincts he wouldn’t resurface for some time. He couldn’t tamp down on the pull in its entirely though, and he could feel himself shaking in Dick’s arms. He knew he would be mortified later, but for now, he wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor and disappear.

“Jay, come on, you can do it. Breathe Jay, please. Come on Little Wing, look at me.” Jason squeezed his eyes shut, the sirens growing nearer his chest growing tighter, his limbs beginning to tingle faintly. Cold air ran over his skin, and Jason realized that Dick had removed his helmet. He could feel his brother's hands cupping his face and angling his head upwards. “Jay? Can you hear me? I need you to take a breath Jason, you need to breathe.”

Jason opened his mouth and he heard Dick give a little sigh of relief but he couldn’t quite pull any air in. “Pl-“ his words choked off. 

“Jay?” Dick brushed his sweaty hair up and away from his face, “what’s wrong? Come on, please Jay, you need to keep breathing.”

“Please-“

“What Jay, what do you need?”

Jason could feel tears building in the corner of his eyes and faintness beginning to overtake him. “Don’t let them take me.” He squeezed his eyes closed and he felt Dick wipe away tears from his cheeks, “please.”

“Oh, Jay…” Dick’s arms tightened around him, “I won’t let anything happen to you.” He shifted with what seemed to be a new sense of determination, pulling Jason into an upright position beside him slinging his little brother's arm over his shoulder, and began to pull him away from the scene. 

The movement seemed to sate The Pit’s desire to flee, and without anything active to fight against Jason let himself be pulled away, too exhausted to do anything else. He could feel himself beginning to dissociate, felt his mind disconnecting from his body, tucked away someplace quieter and less complicated. It was dangerous he knew, letting himself drift away while the green was so near the surface, but he couldn’t stop it, not this time.

He could, on some level recognize that Dick was talking to him, that he was trying to get his attention, but at that moment it seemed too taxing to care about. They seemed to appear in different places between one blink and the next, and before he knew it they were tucked away in a dingy apartment. He was sitting with his back against a wall, Dick was… somewhere. He could hear him moving around, but the idea of so much as moving his head to look for him seemed daunting at the moment. Instead, Jason alternated between lightly running his fingers over, and picking at the cheep carpeting beneath his hands. 

It had a distinctly gritty texture to it, worn down, dirty. It wasn’t a particularly nice feeling, it made Jason feel as if the uncleanliness was spreading to him. But, it was something to focus on, so he didn’t stop. The discomfort was better than the emptiness. 

The next time he opened his eyes Dick was in front of him, his face pinched with concern. “There we are,” He said, voice quiet, emotive, more expression in one little micro-movement of his face than Jason felt he held in his entire body. “I need you to drink some water Jay,”

He felt something close around his wrist, and his hand in turn close around something cool. The temperature difference creating pinprick like sensations down his arm. His lips were wet and he swallowed robotically.

“I’m gonna look at your head Little Wing, it doesn’t look too bad, but you’re kinda scaring me right now.” The last part was added after a pause, like an afterthought, and Jason felt something twist in his gut. Guilt, maybe. 

Dick rolled his neck to the side carefully, to give himself a better look at the impact zone. There wasn’t much there, his helmet had done its job Jason knew. The blow hadn't resulted in anything but ugly bruises, and any other time, Jason knew he would be swiping away Dick’s hands and grappling away by now. But it felt… nice. Almost. Just sitting there as Dick took care of him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had gone out of their way to look after him. 

Talia… it must have been Talia.

Talia, who had been willing to come to Gotham despite the risks when he started having problems. He’d probably have to tell her about this, find out if this was normal… this emptiness. He’d call her, call her as soon as he could find the energy to pull away. He had her number tucked away between-

Between-

Between-

His brain was short-circuiting. 

He tried to play his last thoughts over in his head but they slipped away. His memory of where he’d put her number was just _gone._

He drew in a sharp breath, feeling Dick’s fingers stiffen where they touched him. “Jay?” He could feel his pulse picking up, his heart beating unevenly in his chest, his lungs contracting painfully tight.

“Jay?” Dick’s hands cupped his face, meeting Jason’s panicked eyes directly, “it’s okay, I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen.” Dick shushed him as he moved so that Jason’s weight was supported by his chest as he dragged one of Jason's hands up from where it was franticly picking away at the carpeting and pressed it to his chest. “Easy Little Wing, feel my heart, take a breath,” Dick brushed Jason’s hair aside with his free hand, “Remember? we were doing the whole breathing thing? Come on kiddo, you can do it.”

“I forgot!”

“Forgot what Jay?” Dick’s words were calm, sympathetic. It made his skin crawl, the Pit screamed at him of their hollow intentions. “What did you forget?”

“I can’t- I don’t know-“

Dick’s hold on him tightened, “easy Little Wing, it’s okay,” as much as his instinct rebelled against it, Jason sank into his brother's hold, feeling twelve again. “We can figure it out together. You don’t have to do it alone. Just breath for now”

Jason's chest heaved as he tried to bring his breathing back under control, “Sorry,” he gasped, shaking his head. “Sorry, I’m fine.” He needed to get away from Dick, needed to get back to his safe house so he could search. 

He would probably have to lose his brother on the way back, no need to lead the Bats to where he’d been staying. For all his problems as of late, he wasn’t unaware of what his place would look like to others. Decked out in hundreds of sticky notes- he really didn’t need to give Bruce another reason to try and have him institutionalized. 

“It’s okay Jay, whatever’s going on, we’ll figure it out.”

His stomach twisted painfully. The childish part of him, the part that still thought that Robin was magic, urged him to let Dick take care of him. A large part of him just wanted to stop fighting, to give in, to make his shit someone else’s problem for a change. But, that part of him was buried under the remains of a very different kid. Jason knew what he was now. A rotting amalgamation of neglect, pain, and abuse, unwilling to trust any hand extended to him for fear it would pull away when he needed it the most. 

“I need to go.”

“What?” Dick didn’t sound hurt per se, and that was good because Jason wasn’t sure he could deal with that right now, just confused. “Little Wing, you can't be serious? You can’t expect me to leave you alone now.”

Jason shoved him off, paying no heed to the way his touch-starved body keened at the loss. “I do, and you will.”

“Jason-“

“Back off Dick.” Jason turned away, not wanting to meet his brother's eyes. “I’m sorry for the trouble.” He hesitated for a moment, his hands resting on the edge of the windowsill. “I wasn’t- I just want you to know, and B- so he doesn’t show up in all his righteous glory at my place tomorrow- that I wasn’t- wasn’t trying to kill that guy.” 

He felt Dick reach for him, but he shifted to the side. Dick didn’t try again.

“I know I’m not what you want, I know I came back _wrong.”_ Dick made a choked noise behind him. “But I am trying. Trying to do better.” He frowned. “I still don’t agree with you, I still think there are people out there who deserve to die, and if the Joker and I ever come face to face again… I don’t think there’s anything anyone could do to stop me.” 

Dick needed to replace the frames on his windows, Jason thought as he trailed his fingers over the splintered wood, “Anyways.” He snapped out of his daze and threw the window open.

“Wait!” He flinched as Dick’s hand closed around his wrist, “We haven’t heard from you in ages Jay,” his voice wavered, “you- I just… worry.” He sighed, “look, I know you probably don’t want anything to do with us, but if you _need_ help- please Jay, just call.”

He couldn’t manage a response to that, so instead, he just detangled himself from Dick and swung himself out of the apartment window, already feeling so much colder.

**Author's Note:**

> This will probably get a sequel sometime in the *nebulous* future.


End file.
